


Ain't Love The Sweetest Thing?

by awwcoffeenooooo



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: ;), Best Friends, Drunk!Fitz, F/M, Friendship/Love, Lil nerds admitting love, Tumblr Prompt, a pretty good lil chunk of crack, but not too cracky, muffin metaphors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2019-01-07 13:10:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12233529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awwcoffeenooooo/pseuds/awwcoffeenooooo
Summary: Fitz drunk texts Jemma. Muffin metaphors abound.--Fitzsimmons + 152: “Stop texting me weird stuff so late at night."





	Ain't Love The Sweetest Thing?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Florchis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Florchis/gifts).



> 110% inspired by a convo my friend and I had a night ago about her getting a girlfriend. Muffin metaphors were completely her fault. As was her "I know you're straight, but I'd butter your muffin, hun," *sigh*
> 
> Title from Sweetest Thing by U2 cause original titles really aren't my forte.

 

 

_Women are like muffins_

Jemma squinted against her phone's brightness, silently cursing the device's inability to dim any further. It was close to three am, but apparently that didn't mean too much to Fitz. It wasn't unusual for him to text her at these hours. Usually about a project or report, anyway. But this?

Was there some sort of inside joke she'd missed?

She racked her brain, but nothing came up. The phone vibrated again, signaling another text.

_You can't ever have just one. You get a taste of one and then you just have to keep eating them._

Oh . . .

The text didn't quite have any sexual meaning but all at once . . . _It most definitely did_. Her cheeks heated, and she quickly shifted the heaviest of her blankets off of her bed for a bit better airflow.

_You're a muffin Jemma. A very tasty muffin_.

It took her a few moments to realize her mouth had dropped open, but by then she was already halfway out of bed.

She tugged the long red trench coat out of her closet and around her shoulders, slipped into a pair of boots, and promptly marched out of her apartment to the floor above her own.

Knocking firmly on door 404 (and hardly paying any mind to the Sharpie reading out "apartment not found" beneath the letter plate), she squinted against the glaring lighting of the hallway.

A thud sounded against the door before it swung open, and Fitz slumped forward into her arms.

"Leopold!" she hissed, pushing him upright so as to get a good look at him. He blinked owlishly at her before deciding instead to try to focus on the door across the hall. Keyword: try.

"'S my Jemma muffin," he slurred, eyelids heavy. Jemma's nose wrinkled at the stench of tequila.

She pushed him firmly back towards the apartment. "Are you bloody drunk?"

Fitz ignored her, instead plodding towards the kitchen, and Jemma hesitated for only a moment before following.

She very nearly tripped over a drunken Hunter, lying passed out on the ground with a shot glass still in his hand. Jemma nearly stopped to check on him, but he let out a loud snort, so there was at least that. He didn't seem to be in any danger, other than an inevitably pissed off Bobbi once he managed to make it home.

Fitz had a knife in his hand, taken out of the block on his counter, and was attempting to cut blueberries. While they were still in the packaging.

"Okay, Fitz -- no," she swiped the knife from his hands, set it back in the block, and pulled him away from the kitchen. 

"But _Jemmaaa_ ," he groaned, giving a half hearted tug on her hand. "I'm out of muffins,"

She rolled her eyes, watching as he tried to escape her to reclaim his knife. "Fitz, no. You can get muffins in the morning."

"Your muffin?"

Jemma's cheeks burned, and despite the fact he wasn't likely to remember any of this in the morning, she turned so he couldn't see her face. "I'll make you muffins, yes,"

His face crinkled, almost in confusion, but then he nodded. "Mmhm,"

She pushed him towards his bedroom. "Now go to bed, alright? I'm gonna get you a glass of water,"

He nodded, stumbling over Hunter's form toward his bed, and Jemma rolled her eyes and headed to grab him a glass.

She had just turned on the tap when the front door clicked shut. Casting a curse up at whoever had invented alcohol in the first place, she dropped the cup in the sink and hurried back after Fitz.

Apparently, even drunk, Fitz was an exceptionally fast walker. By the time Jemma had made it out of his apartment and into the hallway, the stairway doors at the other end of the corridor had already shut.

Another flight of stairs later, she found Fitz trying to get into her neighbor Trip's apartment.

"Hey, no, Fitz," she took his arms, steering him another door down. Kicking open her door, she guided him in first before locking it behind her.

He promptly headed to her room and collapsed on her bed.

Jemma sighed, hands on her hips, as she watched him. "You really need to stop texting me weird stuff late at night,"

"You are a muffin, Jemma," he mumbled, nearly incoherent with his face mushed into the mattress. "A very nice muffin."

She sighed again, sliding out of her coat and boots. Padding to her bed, she rolled Fitz enough to push the blankets back and then pull them over the two of them. Her nose wrinkled yet again at his tequila breath.

"What ever possessed you to get this pissed?" she muttered to the air, not expecting an answer.

"Milton," Fitz hissed, nearly with venom. It was nearly enough to make Jemma burst out in laughter at the hatred underneath quite a few levels of drunken slurring.

"He is quite boring, isn't he?" she sighed yet again.

"Mmmhmm," Fitz hummed loudly. "And it isn't fair,"

Her brow furrowed. _Fair?_

"He got to take you," he trailed off. "And so Hunter brought pizza and muffins and drinks,"

_He went and got drunk because she went on a bloody date with Milton._

"He says I should tell you how I feel," Fitz wiggled his feet under the covers. "So I sent you texts. Because you are a muffin, Jemma. A very pretty muffin. And I want to be around you aaallllll the time."

Jemma blinked up at the ceiling, not quite believing what Fitz had just admitted to her. He thought of her that way? For how long? And if he ever really had, why hasn't he said anything?

"Fitz?" She whispered after a few long moments, reaching for his hand.

Her words were only greeted with soft snores. She smiled.

Sure, she had thought of them like that. It wasn't hard. She'd have to be blind to miss the way his scruff had come in. Not to mention the over whelming sweetness he always showed to her, as opposed to the grumpy Scottish façade he kept up with everyone else.

Carefully, so as not to wake him, she laid her head against his shoulder, letting her hand rest against his heart, and let her eyes slip shut.

  
(In the morning, Fitz refuses to so much as move for fear of enacting hangover's wrath.

But Jemma brings him a water and Advil and an hour later, Fitz is being handed his phone to read through his texts while Jemma tries not to smirk around a freshly baked blueberry muffin).

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Feel free to let me know what you thought. 
> 
> Tumblr/Instagram -- @WhenTheSkyeQuakes


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